


Drabbles

by withaflashoflove



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8840074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withaflashoflove/pseuds/withaflashoflove
Summary: Lots of domestic Westallen and snippets into their relationship.





	1. Dinner Plans

“Barry!” Iris calls to him from the kitchen. 

He wasn’t really paying attention to her, focusing more on reading her article about the new healthcare legislation that corrupted, inexperienced and bribable congress members were attempting to pass.

She waits another few seconds for his response before walking out to the living room. When she sees his eyes focused on the screen, she feels her heart warm, but the growl of her stomach quickly reminds her that proofreading and editing can wait.

“Barry,” Iris repeats, walking over and pulling the laptop out of his lap, shutting it and tossing it aside. 

“Hey!” he whines, “why!? Give it back!” 

“Baby, I haven’t eaten all day!” She gives him a small smile, and comes to sit on his lap; his arms instinctively wrap around her waist, previous qualms slowly subsiding as she leans in to give him a kiss. “Now, tell me where you wanna go eat.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs, rubbing his hands along her back.

“Okay, well when do you want to eat?”

“Up to you.” “Bar-”

“Before you say anything, ask me _what_ I want to eat, Iris,” he smirks, bashful smile drawing on his lips. 

She thinks this must be a set up, but another growl from her stomach promptly erases those thoughts and she lets out a sigh, giving into his wishes. 

“Fine. _What_ do you want to eat?”

His grin radiates and he quickly flips her over on the couch, pinning her body underneath him, his body hovering over hers. 

“You.”


	2. Between Us

It’s the way he pulls her into him, the way his hand is reluctant and careful, the way he holds his breath, asking permission to touch her, the way he lets his hand capture her’s when she gives him a silent okay, the way he slowly tugs her to come closer, whispers _come here_ for only her to hear, the way his nose crinkles a little as a smile draws on his face, the way he lets both hands grip her waist, the way he pulls her body into his, the way he never breaks her eye contact, the way his body relaxes when he feels her hands grip onto his arms for support. 

It’s the way she takes him in, the way she eases into his touch, the way she feels when inside the warmth of his embrace, the way she lets her hands trail up until they find their way to his neck, the way she links them together, the way the tips of her finger come to play with the longest strands of his hair, the way she steadies her breathing, waiting for him to say something, the way the world fades, the way everything disappears except him, the way she feels her lips curl upwards with the way he’s looking at her, the way her heart beats knowing _her love_ is holding her. 

It’s the way he bends down to match her height, the way he slightly lifts her up because he’s still too tall, the way his lips graze her forehead before coming to a firm rest, tender and soft on her skin, the way his eyes close when he hears her exhale...

It’s the way she stands on her toes to reach him, the way she gently tugs him down because she’s still too short, the way her lips connect with his forehead, lingering for a few seconds too long, the way her eyes close when she takes in his scent...

It’s the way they have the ability to make each other feel safe and warm without a single word. It’s the way they can ease away all the tensions, let the weight of their problems disappear with a single kiss, with a kiss that whispers _I love you_ , with a kiss that whispers _I’m_ _proud of you_ , with a kiss that whispers _you’re safe in my arms_ , with a kiss that whispers _we’ll figure it out together_ , with a kiss that whispers _this_ _is_ _you, this is me, this is home._


	3. A New Romance to Celebrate an Old

“Iris, make sure you throw it high!” her dad shouts, laughter ringing in his voice.

The bride gives him an enthusiastic head nod, before turning her back to the wedding guests, bouquet in hand, stance set for action. 

Before she tosses it back, she locks eyes with her now _husband_ and his smile widens the moment he sees her. It’d been a night to remember, she reflects, and though the day had started off shaky (thanks to Cisco’s all-too-eager love affair with cake and Wally’s forgetfulness as to where he placed the rings), it ended up being the perfect night to commemorate their marriage. And now, with the stars making their way into the night sky, she felt an uncanny serenity, joy exuding from all the guests that had joined her and Barry, warmth and happiness welcoming them home to their new lives with each other. 

“Iris! Throw it already!” she hears Cisco shout, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Right!” she answers quietly, letting the bouquet leave her hands, its parabolic path making its way to the women standing in front of the stage.

Everybody holds their breath for an extended moment and Iris turns around just in time to see the flowers land in Linda’s hands. When she sees the shock on her best friend’s face, a laugh escapes her lips, enjoying the coincidence and humor that her maid of honor caught the bouquet. 

Just then, she catches Linda blush and her eyes follow along until they see Wally, staring back at the sports’ reporter, a huge smile drawn on his face.

Iris turns to look at Barry, who seems to have noticed the same thing. They both give each other an all-too-knowing look before he makes his way over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her into a tight embrace.

She relishes in his solace, thanking her lucky stars for all her adoring friends and family, for the beauty of this night, and for the compassion and love of her best friend and partner for life.


	4. Quiescence

It’s like everyone and everything became insipid. Like nothing else mattered, like nothing else existed the moment she stepped into the room. And he thinks everyone stood and thinks they all held their breaths, thinks their attention turned towards her, thinks he heard her father and brother cry, thinks he heard Linda let out a gasp, thinks some of the guests turned around to look at him to see if he was still standing, to see if he was still here.

But truthfully, he didn’t know what happened, didn’t know where the guests disappeared, couldn’t recognize the seats or the peripheral of the room. Because when he saw her, it’s like everything else faded into the background, became blurred and mundane, and his eyes could only register _her._ Her smile, radiant and gleaming. Her eyes, the brown irises dancing to their own music, locking with his greens, ready to pull them in and sway together. Her dress, hugging her body tight, the white color so holy, so redoubtable, so magnificent. And he didn’t have enough adjectives, didn’t think the English language had enough words to describe her, needed other languages, needed other expressions, needed translators and linguists to explain just how surreal and angelic she looked, just how much she took his breath away, just how much love he had for her, just how much he couldn’t believe that she was walking towards him down an aisle that felt too long, like even if she ran towards him and he ran towards her, she’d still be too far away.

And he didn’t know whether he wanted to stop time or to speed it up…couldn’t decide whether to still the moment and take her in, to memorize every bit of her body, of her walk, of her figure, to capture her beauty so he could give it back to the world on its darkest days, or whether to speed it up, to make time run faster so she would be in his arms, so he could hold her, so he could feel her grace, so she could calm his beating heart, so he could remember the way her presence illuminated his entire world, so he could have the source of his light in his arms, so he could kiss her lips and lose himself in her eyes.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his arm, slightly nudging him forward that he realized he’d been standing still, starry-eyed and dazed, just looking at her, the smile on his face so wide that there wasn’t enough room for it, and he was pretty sure there was laughter from the guests, was pretty sure Cisco pushed him forward again, was pretty sure he had tears in his eyes the same way Joe did in his, was pretty sure that was his cue to move forward, to go hold her hand in his, so after a third nudge, he felt his legs guiding him towards her, saw the way her body called to him, saw the way she was holding her own breath, saw the way she was looking at him, and the minute her hand held his, reality became the backdrop existing in a place far away and she was the world… she was the only one who mattered…she was the electricity, she was the lightning…she was his reason for it all.


	5. People are Beginning to Wonder

He’d zipped into CCPN for the second time in the same day, this time taking her outside with him, running them to an empty alley away from all the outside eyes. And before she had the chance to process what happened, his lips were on hers, kisses chaste and quick before leaving her mouth and making their way to graze her face, a pace well-established as he made his way around the curve of her jaw to her neck and Iris couldn’t stop herself from giggling when he lingered a little too long on a particularly ticklish spot.

She wrapped her hands around his neck and gently pulled him away, seeing that boyish grin on his face the moment his eyes connected with hers. Truly, she loved when he surprised her at work, especially when he brought cookies, brownies and cronuts and how she always had fresh coffee waiting for her at her desk and how sometimes he’d leave her little notes on the cup like _you’re the reason the sun shines so bright_ or _I hope you love this coffee as much as I love you_ or _I can’t wait to see you tonight_ or - her favorite one - _no sweet tastes as sweet as your lips._ And sometimes he’d stop by just to whisper _I love you_ before kissing her and heading out the door and she couldn’t put into words how much happiness it gave her and how giddy he made her feel, like he was the pretty boy in school who only had eyes for her and she was crushin’ hard on him and they were living in their own little bubble of romance.

“You know,” she says, reaching up to kiss his lips one more time, “every time you stop by, Linda teases me mercilessly. And some coworkers have started wondering why a red streak and your arrival always seem to correlate.”

He frowns, the smile dropping from his face, and he can’t figure out if he’s more concerned with the fact that he may have accidentally revealed his identity or with the fact that Iris might want him to stop coming to see her.

She notices his reaction, quickly adding, “don’t worry! They haven’t figured it out completely yet. And I definitely don’t want you to stop visiting…”

“Yeah?” he asks shyly, gripping her waist a little tighter.

“Mhm. Just maybe give me a heads up when you’re coming? That way I can meet you outside instead of you having to come in.”

Barry gives her a thumbs up before leaning down to kiss her again, seemingly unable to keep his lips away from hers, and she just smiles into the kiss, not wanting him to pull away, butterflies playing in her stomach as his arms encircle her, as he whispers sweet musings between kisses, as he nibbles on her ear before trailing his lips back to hers. 

“What should we do about Linda?” he asks, finally pulling away just a little bit. 

“Mmm,” Iris hums, not wanting to be away from him, missing his kisses already, “if she keeps at it, I’ll just bring up Wally and give it right back.” 

“I like that plan.”

“I like you,” she smiles, pulling him into her again. And really she would’ve stayed in his arms for another few minutes, but when she hears her phone ding 20 times in a row, she knows it’s Linda and she knows she’s in for a mountain of jokes when she gets back inside.


	6. Eyes on You

He kept telling himself that _next_ time, he wouldn’t lose a bet right before they went out to play a game of laser tag. And that _next_ time, he wouldn’t let Iris within two feet of him, because he needed to focus, and he was anything but at this moment in time, even though they were losing by a lot. Like a lot a lot.

And truthfully, Wally had every right to be upset. Because - thanks to Iris - Barry forgot rule #1: wear something dark. He didn’t do that. Instead, he was forced to wear his white button-down because his girlfriend took competitions seriously and she was on a mission to beat Wally; the fact that her and Cisco were a team wasn’t helping either, because those two were too good, with their gameplan and matching outfits and coordinated attacks. And since superspeed would be considered “cheating,” both he and Wally were out of luck.

So Barry found that his best tactic _this_ time around was to hide in this secluded corner while his gun charged, while he let Wally handle some business without causing any more exposure, while he caught his breath because this game was a lot more intense than he remembered it.

But before he could get too comfortable, he heard footsteps, so he quickly assumed the _on-guard_ position. Really though, he never stood a chance. Because Iris strutted over to him, finger on her lips gesturing for him to keep quiet, and before he knew it, he was being pushed up against the wall, his gun long forgotten, his defenses down, as his girlfriend kept kissing him, kept kissing him _hard_ , like it was just the two of them, like they were alone in the dark, like she was ready to strip off his vest and then his shirt with the way her tongue was dancing in his mouth, with the way her hands were pulling at his hair, with the way her body was flushed against his. 

Yet before Barry even had the chance to wrap his arms around her completely and pull her in closer, she had already pulled away, giving him her mischievous wink and her infamous grin and stepping back from his embrace.

And he hadn’t been given the chance to regain his composure when his suit rang loud with the noise he was far too accustomed to and his gun suddenly wasn’t working again and his face dropped fast, his chest heaved for air, as he decided that if _this_ was the game she wanted to play… well…he really couldn’t do anything about it because Iris West never played fair…not with skill, not with intensity, and definitely not with tenacity, all three of which left him stunned.


	7. Love Bites

“Is that a hickey?”

She freezes in place, the pizza slice she’s holding just above the box sags slightly in her hand.

**_Damn._ **

Maybe the makeup facade wasn’t as good as she thought it was. Though she swore her hair would do the trick of covering it up.

Her eyes dip down to the table. “’s not a hickey,” she says, immediately regretting the tone it comes out with.

“Mmmhm,” her father replies, walking around to stand next to her, “lemme guess. You burned yourself somehow?”

And in moments like this, Iris wishes she had learned to come up with better excuses when she was in high school and when she visited home from college. She mostly got away with it back then, her dad always giving her the _I know you’re lying but I won’t ask because I don’t want a murder on my hands_ look. Maybe it was because he hadn’t caught her with a hickey since winter break of her freshman year that he chose to comment on it this time around.

“Something like that,” Iris laughs nervously, looking up to meet his eyes.

She doesn’t miss the way he readies himself to press her again, but luckily Barry walks through the door, interrupting their interrogation session.

“Hey!” he says slamming the door behind him and walking over to them.

And that’s when she simultaneously notices her dad’s eyes go wide as he looks at him and notices the not-so-subtle marks on Barry’s neck as well, his skin attracting a lot more attention to the purple bruising (she made a note that he didn’t heal _that_ fast and the next time they decided to have a quickie in his lab, he should wait at least an hour before coming home). Maybe the timing wasn’t so lucky afterall. 

Her head drops to the table, heat flooding her cheeks.

“Bear,” Joe questions, turning to face the speedster, “what’s wrong with your neck?”

Barry’s hands fly to cover his neck, the purple mark blending a little more now thanks to the bright red of his face. 

“Just - you know!” he panics, looking over to his girlfriend only to find her eyes closed and her head shaking, before making eye contact with her dad again. They _so_ should’ve told him they were together! Barry wanted to tell him! This was all Iris’s fault. “Just a meta! Nothing really, he just got me pretty bad but it’ll heal, yeah it’ll heal soon!” 

Joe alternates between Barry and Iris, first staring at Barry, all shell-shocked and scarlet, before looking at Iris, who was equally embarrassed and frozen in place.

“Okay,” Joe says, throwing the towel he’d been using to dry his hands, pulling out a chair and taking a seat right next to his daughter, right in front of Barry, “one of you better start talking.”


	8. One Look

She told him _they’d_ _interview_ _you if you let them catch up_ and he countered _you’re the more eloquent one; if they interview me, I’d ramble on about you._

She did the interview. She gave him credit; she gave The Flash credit for helping her break the story, for helping her serve justice, for helping her publish the article. They told her _you and The Flash have a very close relationship_ to which she jokingly replied _it’s_ _strictly_ _professional; he’s my partner in crime._

The second part of that statement was true (ironic, but true); the first part was a little true…minus the _strictly_ part. She didn’t think the media believed her. But Barry Allen was her cover for that. Because while she gave The Flash his credit, she also gave her CSI boyfriend the same for serving up a mean analysis of everything biochemical, made sure to hold him tight when they interviewed the both of them together, made sure to kiss him on the cheek for good measure.

But maybe they’d blow her cover if they saw her staring at The Flash’s pretty green eyes as he stood behind the camera, in a place only visible to her, in a spot only she knew to look across the room at CCPN, away from the flashing lights and booming microphones of media personnel too eager to get her statement. Maybe there’d be headlines that read _Iris_ _West and The Flash?_ if they caught the way he stared back at her from behind his cowl, the way his eyes glistened as they got lost in her deep twinkling browns, as his eyelashes kept fluttering, like he couldn’t believe the magic of her was so tangible. Maybe they’d spread rumors and people would ask her if they ever snapped a picture of all the languages the two of them spoke with nothing more than a look.

Maybe they’d know she was in love with the boy who ran so fast, but slowed down the world for her. Maybe they’d put two and two together and realize she was looking at the same pair of eyes, that she’d inadvertently reveal his identity because no matter who was in the room, the only person she could focus on was _him,_ the only person she could ever see was her love, staring back at her, pride and warmth radiating from him, arms ready to swoop her up the minute she gave him the cue, hand stretched out to her, waiting for her to hold it.

So she smiled wide, leaned up to kiss his lips before whispering _my_ _eyes give me away_ and he held her tight, replying with a smile of his own _that makes the both of us._


	9. On Time

Barry and Iris had just finished afternoon brunch in celebration of Joe and Wells, with Jesse and Wally. The sixsome had gathered together for the occasion, with the two couples going out of their way to make this a really happy Father’s Day. And god knows, they all needed it.

After bidding their farewells, Barry rushed Iris home, eager to change into sweats and spend the rest of the day with his beautiful wife.

“So I may have gotten you a little something,” she says, walking out of the bedroom in shorts and one of his old sweatshirts, which fit her more like a dress than a shirt.

“For me?” he asks, spotting the box behind her back. 

“Mhm,” she replies, coming to stand in front of him, “here. Open it.”

Barry doesn’t bother asking anything else. Instead he focuses on unwrapping the gift at hand, making sure to rip the wrapping paper off with as little tear as possible.

“Barry, you know we have plenty of wrapping paper?”

“I know,” he laughs, “but no reason this can’t be reused. Plus it helps the environment.”

With that, he peels the last strip of tape off and slowly opens the box. His eyes hover over the silver _Citizen_ watch, with its black interior and intricate design.

“You really shouldn’t have babe,” he smiles, looking up at her with love in his eyes.

“Actually,” she muses, taking the watch and putting it on his wrist, “I think I had to.”

“Why?”

“Well,” she shyly ducks her head, eyes falling to focus on the floor, “because I need you to be on time now.”

“…ha ha.”

“Really Bear,” she answers, this time looking him directly in the eyes, “I might have a lot of cravings and mood swings and we should probably stick to some sort of schedule. You know, when we sleep. When we go out. When we meet family. Just to make sure everything flows smoothly.” 

His face screams confusion and he doesn’t quite catch on to what she’s saying. So Iris continues. “I just…I know you’re always busy running around saving everyone. But I might need to be a little more selfish with you for the next 9 months.”

**_Oh._ **

**_Ohh._ **

It clicks. 

“You’re not…” he stutters, hands coming to grip her arms, using her body as support.

“Happy Father’s Day, Barry,” she beams at him as she jumps into his arms.

Barry lifts her up and spins her around, joy overwhelming his emotions, cheeks hurting from the intensity of his smile. 

“Really?!” he says, finally setting her down.

“Mhm. Really.”

“You’re having a baby?” he asks again, this time in a much more quiet tone, eyes filling with tears.

“Don’t get all mushy on me yet Bear,” she replies, smile glistening brightly, “I’ve heard these pregnancy demands can get pretty intense.”

“Don’t care,” he says, coming to embrace her once again, “anything you want. Anything you need. I’ll be here. And I’ll never be late. I promise.”


	10. A Flutter of the Lips

After the third time he’s pulled her in for a kiss, she doesn’t turn back around to leave the house. Instead, Iris looks at him, her hands on his chest, her eyes fully open, studying the features of his eyes, how the green reflects her own shine, how the wrinkles around them scrunch tight with his growing smile. Doesn’t he realize he’s kissed her already? 

Once.

Twice.

But he still pulled her back for the third, in the span of a few seconds…minutes…moments…and she’s sure he also knows she’ll be late to work because _he_ keeps making her late because _he_ keeps bringing her lips back to his, keeps kissing her slow and soft, the first time with his hands on her waist, the second time tangling in her hair, the third cupping her cheeks.

She wonders what he would’ve done the fourth time - what he’ll do _now -_ since he’s already leaning in again and she’s letting him close the distance, capturing her lips, her bottom one between both of his, and she feels his hands press to her back, ghosting over her spine, calm and warm.

That’s how he makes her feel.

That’s how every kiss makes her feel, in the early of the morning, before the chaos of the city, of the newsroom, of the people she has to see, of all the grief she still carries in her chest…he keeps her calm. In the now.

Now, when it’s only the two of them, doing this for the fourth time, and she’ll say  _bye_ again soon, but he’ll pull her back to his chest instead of letting her head out the door, and maybe this is his way of saying sorry.

Maybe this is all his way of making it up to her, of laying his heart on his sleeves, of showing her what words cannot speak, of giving her his love, his home, of reminding her he knows there are still constellations to connect, there are strings to tie to fix what broke, but he’ll do it. 

Kisses are easier to change than timelines. Kisses don’t leave heavy hearts and angry tears.

“I just want it to be perfect,” he says after she pulls away from him.

Iris watches him chase after her lips before fluttering open his eyes, and the taste of him is still on her, just like his smell and his touch are so visceral, so tangible, that she’s sure even if she leaves, she’ll take him with her. 

So she whispers, “it won’t be,” because it’s a reality they’ll deal with for the rest of time, but before the sadness creeps onto his face, she presses her chest into his, brings her hands to the nape of his neck and stands on the tip of her toes, adding “…that doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful.”


	11. Not Home Right Now

She's covering him with her body, skin pressed tight against his, her hands resting on his chest as she pushes his button down to either side of his chest.

Barry's busy too, his own hands working their way up her thighs, up to the hem of her sweats, ready to pull them down and off her, her sweatshirt already out of the way.

And their lips are too busy dancing, too busy being carefree, his on her neck, hers nibbling on his ear, till she pulls his face back to her, till she connects their mouths again, till she licks open his lips just as she wraps her arms around him, pulling him to a sitting position, the button down discarded, the couch too small to fit the both of them.

"I-iris," Barry stutters.

She ignores his voice, continuing to kiss him. Her hands come dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans before he quickly reaches for them and halts them in place.

"Whyyyy," she whines, the adrenaline from their previous endeavors still hot on her lips, her pupils dilated with lust.

Barry gives her one last kiss to the lips before un-plastering his chest from hers. "You've got guests in 5 minutes."

She huffs. "Yes, but you're  _The Flash._ "

"Iris West," Barry grins his crinkly-eyed smile, "you know I like going slow with you."

An eye roll escapes her and that gets him to laugh a little harder, as he nuzzles his nose in her neck.

And she feels the vibrations from his throat, feels his warm breath on her skin, which definitely isn't helping turn her off, but it does make her feel a little less upset at him for cutting their adventure short.

Iris pulls him back by the hair.

When she sees his face, all innocent and pure, mischievousness fills her and she decides in this moment that teasing Barry Allen is her favorite thing to do, so she goes in for the kill, her mouth open wide, her tongue darting out, and when she crashes her lips to his, she makes sure to kiss him hard and deep and extra slow, makes sure to hum a little tune to the dance their tongues do, makes sure to brush their noses together when she finally pulls away, a few moments later.

Barry's eyes are closed when she does, and it's her turn to laugh now.

Because when he opens them again, she sees their pleas, sees the intimacy in them, sees the sharpness of the green, but he's the rational one, she  _does_ have guests coming in less than 2 minutes now, and she definitely wouldn't want to keep them waiting.

So she pushes herself off him, the smile never leaving her lips. "You're right, babe," Iris says, "shame we don't have time for slow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want this death storyline over already :(


	12. In the Rain

"Barry, it's pouring out here!" Iris runs towards her car, her hair already wet and curly from the downpour of water. Central City didn't get many storms non-metahuman related, but when it did, the dark clouds and rainy skies were relentless.

She's dreading the fact that she wore heels to this event, a work event where she got a chance to network and hear others humble-brag about their "groundbreaking" journalistic inquiries. Really, it was a waste of time, but the free alcohol helped. And surely, she was feeling the effects of it now, as she almost tripped, her heel getting stuck between a crack.

Within seconds, she feels Barry's strong hands grasp her waist tight.

The ground isn't solid and her head is spinning just a little, so she clings to the arm he has around her and steadies herself.

"Careful there," Barry whispers in her ear, his breath heavy on her neck.

It dawns on her - between her hazy thoughts and foggy eyes - that they are alone, the two of them, the only two left, the only two in the parking lot, the only two in the glow of the moon and the song of the raindrops.

She's grinning a little, and he must notice, because he places a wet kiss to her neck. "Why're you smiling?" he asks, curious.

Iris spins in his arms. "Because" - she flattens the lapels of his wet suit and readjusts his tie, as if the the water isn't going to shift it out of place anyway - "you've never kissed me in the rain."

He cocks his head, his hands still steady on her waist. "That is a lie."

She raises her eyebrows.

"You kissed me in the rain two months into us dating. We just finished that zombie movie which was a terrible excuse of a zombie movie, so much so that I don't even wanna name it by name" -

Iris stares at him as he rambles. It's cute the way the light shines on him and the way his eyelashes flutter every once in awhile from a raindrop too big landing on them. It's especially cute how his hands keep coming on and off the small of her back as he continues to explain the night they kissed in the rain, the night  _she_ kissed him in the rain, the key detail _he's_ forgetting, the one she wants to remind him of, but he's still talking, still reminding her of the time and the place and his reaction and how happy he was that she kissed him, that she made his entire night, that he remembers every kiss and every moment between them, and Iris  _almost_ shuts him up.

Instead she waits till his voice hums low, and then for the silence.

"Sorry..." Barry says sheepishly, "but long story short, we've kissed in the rain."

"Mhm," she nods, "I kissed you."

His smile falls just a little.

" _I_ kissed you in the rain, Barry Allen," she continues, her hands finding a way to the nape of his neck. "And I think it's time  _you_ kissed me, don't you think?"

She can tell exactly when it clicks, by the way his eyes go wide and his hair jumps back, but before she has time to process it completely, a grin is plastered on his face, so big and so genuine, and soon enough, his lips descend upon hers and he catches her upper lip between his, and Iris has to smile as well, has to smile at the pretty boy who'd do anything just because she asked, at her pretty boy who kisses her with fervor, with a promise, outside, in the cold, in front of a venue with no one inside, simply because she wanted him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people were talking about WA kissing in the rain, and I got inspired to write this.


End file.
